


change my luck

by alnima



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Dates, First Kiss, M/M, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-01 04:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14512341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alnima/pseuds/alnima
Summary: “Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?”Zayn shrugs. “I guess not. Though, why would you want to?”“I don’t—I don’t know. I like you, so I just thought that I’d ask.”“You don’t even know me,” Zayn reminds him and Harry huffs.





	change my luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leighbot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/gifts).



The first time that Harry sees Zayn, it’s when Liam takes him to the county fair.

He didn’t want to go. Not when the only reason they’re going is so Liam can impress his boyfriend. So, he already doesn’t want to be here, but then he sees him. He’s got an arm slung around Louis’ waist and he’s laughing at something Louis is saying, with his eye all wrinkled shut and his smile wide.

Harry can’t see him entirely, but he radiates across the field. There are hundreds of people all around them, everyone in the city, and even more flashing colored lights on the rides, but all Harry can see is him.

He’s the only person not wearing rubber boots for the mud, instead, he’s got on a pair of Doc Marten’s and black, ripped up skinny jeans with horizontal slits up the leg, exposing patches of skin from his ankles to his thighs. There’s a black leather jacket to top the look off. It fits just a little too loosely for his lean frame, but it spans across the length of his broad shoulders, and Harry wants to curl up inside of it with him and stay there for a little while.

“Liam,” Harry asks, nudging Liam’s shoulder, “who is that boy with Louis?”

Liam’s eyes scan the field trying to find his boyfriend. When he sees him, he nods, as a look of recognition takes over his features. “That’s Zayn.”

“Zayn?” Harry repeats, feeling the way the name rolls off his tongue. He kind of likes it.

“Zayn Malik. He’s a friend of Louis’. Here for the summer, visiting his aunt or something.”

“How does Louis know him?” Harry asks, falling into step next to Liam as they approach the pair. Harry tries to look at Liam as he asks, to be an active listener, but he can’t take his eyes off Zayn.

Liam hums. “You know Louis, he’s practically friends with everyone.”

Harry doesn’t really know Louis, actually. Not that well, anyway. He knows that he's Liam’s boyfriend, and they’ve been dating for almost a year. But he tries to steer clear of them when they’re together. They’re too much alike in opposite ways. And they both want to control everything, but go about it in two totally different ways to yield two totally different results. It makes Harry’s head spin, but not in the way that the boy in front of him makes his head spin. He makes him feel like he’s floating on air.

“I’m Harry Styles,” he says as way of greeting, stepping in front of both Louis and Zayn, halting their movement and causing them both to glance up at him.

Harry hears as Liam snorts next to him and sees as Louis rolls his eyes, but the only reaction he really cares about is Zayn’s. He’s looking at him, hazel eyes wide and doe-like, staring at him intently.

“Okay,” Zayn mumbles, mouth quirking upward slightly as he looks at Harry.

“I just wanted you to know that,” Harry explains, feeling a bit like an ass. Maybe he should have let Liam do the introductions.

“All right,” Zayn says. He doesn’t show any signs of wanting to give his own name up, which is fine, because Harry already knows it. But it’d be nice to hear it from Zayn, so he doesn’t look like a weirdo if he uses it later.

“Do you want to ride the ferris wheel with me, or something?” Harry asks, ignoring Louis when he rolls his eyes again.

“Liam, babe, let’s get out of here. I don’t want to watch Harry embarrass himself,” Louis says, pulling away from Zayn. He turns around briefly and Harry misses what he says or does with his face, but it makes Zayn smile. Louis pats him on the back as he goes, sighing.

“So?” Harry prompts again.

“No, I’m all right,” Zayn answers.

Harry nods. That’s fine. There’s plenty of other rides here, or non-rides if Zayn wants to throw darts at balloons or toss rings at old glass milk jugs. Harry doesn’t really care what they do, assuming Zayn wants to spend any kind of time with him. “That’s cool,” Harry tells him, smiling. “Are you sure, though?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to,” Zayn says, shrugging his shoulders unapologetically before he slinks off.

Harry stares at the empty space that Zayn was just occupying, trying to get his brain to process what’s just happened. He’s in a bit of a shocked daze when he turns and spots Zayn slipping under the arm of a blond, grinning at him, and getting onto the Ferris wheel.

Harry stays where he is and watches as Zayn takes his seat and the worker drops the safety bar. Zayn spots looking and waves, a smirk on his face as the frat boy looking blonde drapes his arm across Zayn’s shoulders.

+

Harry spots Zayn in the park the next morning. This time hears where jean shorts that look like he cut them himself, uneven and fraying at the edges. He’s wearing a white shirt and a hat, and the same Doc Martens he had on yesterday. Harry thinks that his feet must be dying inside of those boots, with the way that the sun is beating down on them in the summer heat.

Harry hesitates before approaching because Zayn is reading and Harry doesn’t know what protocol is for talking to someone who is reading a book and if Harry should wait until he’s turning a page, or until he sets the book down, or maybe wait until Zayn glances up and makes eye contact.

Instead, Harry decides to approach him like he would anyone else, without waiting and without hesitation.

“Hey,” Harry says, standing next to Zayn and casting a shadow over him.

Zayn glances up, blinking slowly and looking at Harry in confusion before he seems to recognize Harry. “Oh, hi.”

“What are you reading?”

Zayn lifts the book up so Harry can see the cover. It’s not one that Harry recognizes, but it looks interesting enough. Harry tries to engrave the title to memory so he can check it out later and see if it’s something he likes, or see if there’s something in there that he can use a conversation starter, since he doesn’t know Zayn at all, let alone very well, and knowing what to say to him seems next to impossible, especially when Zayn gives so little.

“Liam says that you’re visiting for the summer.”

“I am,” Zayn confirms, nodding.

“Your aunt lives here?”

“She does.”

Harry sighs and toes in the dirt on the ground for a minute. “You know Louis?”

“I do,” Zayn says, smirking when Harry sighs. “Before he moved here, he used to live next door to me. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“Oh, well that must be nice, to be able to see him again every year.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

Harry smiles and glances around for a second. There aren’t many people out at the park this early. Harry himself was out on a run when he spotted Zayn, but talking to him seems so much more appealing than jogging.

“Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?”

Zayn shrugs. “I guess not. Though, why would you want to?”

“I don’t—I don’t know. I like you, so I just thought that I’d ask.”

“You don’t even know me,” Zayn reminds him and Harry huffs.

“I’m trying to get to know you.”

“By interrupting my reading?”

“Right,” Harry mutters, shoulders dropping. He forgot that Zayn was actually doing something before Harry approached him. “Well, I can always catch up with you later. Or, get to know you later, I guess, since we don’t really have much to catch up on. Unless you want to tell me about that book later, I don’t know. Whatever. I can leave.”

Harry takes a step back and Zayn watches him, that smirk still plastered on his face. It’s not until Harry’s offering him a wave and getting ready to turn and flee that Zayn says, “I never said you had to leave.”

“I thought that’s what you meant when you said I was interrupting you.”

“You are interrupting me,” Zayn says, “but I never said that you had to leave.”

Harry blinks at him and then sits down slowly like he’s waiting for Zayn to tell him that he’s changed his mind and Harry can go. He sits down slowly and hesitantly like Zayn’s a stray cat staring at Harry’s outstretched hand and trying to decide if he’s going for fight or flight, or in the rare instance, stay and let Harry pet him. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Harry’s not going to reach out and start petting Zayn. He’s not that ridiculous.

“So, um, did you like the fair?”

Zayn shrugs. “It was all right.”

“I saw you get on the roller coaster with that guy.”

Zayn smirks and then wets his lips, grinning as he plays with the cover of the book in his lap. “Niall? Yeah, he asked so I figured, why not?”

“Huh,” Harry mutters, nodding his head. He wants to point out that he asked too, but that doesn’t really matter. If Zayn didn’t want to ride with him, then he didn’t want to ride with him, and that’s his decision to make and Harry’s decision to respect. “Did you like it?”

“Not really,” Zayn tells him. “I don’t really like heights or roller coasters.”

“A ferris wheel isn’t a roller coaster, but, yeah, I understand. Don’t really like roller coasters much either.”

“Did you ever find someone ride it with you?” Zayn asks, looking at Harry curiously.

Harry shakes his head no. He didn’t even try to ask anyone else. He really didn’t even want to go on the thing, but everyone knows that ferris wheels are supposed to be romantic. It’s where people go to fall in love. Not like Harry was hoping he and Zayn would fall in love immediately or anything, but there’s something about Zayn. Harry can feel it.

Sometimes, when you see another person, you just know. You know that they’re something. Something special, something important, or at least they could be, if you gave them the chance.

Harry doesn’t know how to explain it other than to say that there’s something about Zayn that makes his insides feel like they’re on fire, a warm sensation that he doesn’t want to let go of.

“What’s your book about?” Zayn shrugs and holds it out so Harry can read the back cover. It sounds like some kind of murder mystery kind of thing, following a detective as they investigate a series of kidnappings. “Huh, is it any good?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t been able to read it,” Zayn teases, leaning back against the tree behind him. “Got another one, if you want to stay and read.”

“Of the same book?”

Zayn shakes his head and pulls an old paperback out of his pocket. He passes it over to Harry and Harry takes it gingerly, aware of the fact that this book is used and likely something that Zayn has read a million different times on his own.

“What if I don’t finish it today?” Harry asks, glancing up to look at Zayn.

Zayn shrugs and says, “I don’t know, guess we’ll find out.”

+

Harry spots Zayn all over town now. It’s hard to miss him and his combat boots, lurking around town with Louis, Niall, or the both of them. Harry waves when he sees him, but tries to give him his space as much as he can. He wants to wait until he’s finished the book that Zayn loaned him, wants to be able to have something to say that doesn’t make him sound like an idiot. He reckons he probably always sounds a bit like a fool, but he wants to have something to really say, some kind of solid base for the start of something with Zayn.

The book is good, actually. Harry’s never much into science fiction, but this one is well written, and the plot has been interesting so far. Harry’s still not really sure if the book is about aliens or some kind of mutant science experiment, but it’s funny, and he’s excited to finish to find out what exactly everyone is talking about in it.

This time though, Harry is nearly finished with the book, when he spots Zayn walking through town with Niall and Louis. It doesn’t look like they’re doing anything just yet, maybe going somewhere or simply wandering around town, bored and looking for something to do.

Harry’s sitting at a little table outside of a café, working on finishing the book Zayn got him, and when they pass, he waves and stands as they approach him.

“Hey, sorry, um,” Harry bounces on the balls of his feet and tries to remember why he’s standing in front of the three of them again. “Zayn, hi.”

“Hi,” Zayn laughs, shoving his hands into his back pockets. “See you’re still working on that book.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I am. I’m almost finished though,” Harry tells him. “Actually, uh. I wanted to ask you something, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, god,” Louis groans, grabbing Niall by the elbow. “Come on, let him have his moment in peace. Zayn, we’ll be over there.”

Zayn nods at them and then turns back to Harry with a smirk. “What’s going on?”

Harry breathes out and motions towards the book. “This is actually really good, you know,” he says, “and since I’m almost finished, I was just wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something, talk about it, or whatever.”

Zayn looks at him, his face carefully neutral for a second before he shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” Harry mutters, nodding. “Right, that’s totally cool.”

“Okay,” Zayn replies.

“Right, well, I can give you your book back next time I see you. I should be done with it by tomorrow.”

Zayn nods at him, digging his hands out of his pocket to scratch his jaw for a moment. “Take your time. I’m not worried.”

“Okay, well, see you,” Harry says, waving before he awkwardly steps out of Zayn’s way. He tries to smile even though the sting of rejection is burning in his gut, but it’s okay. If Zayn doesn’t want to get dinner, that’s cool, they can talk about the book in person when Harry gives it back because he has to say something about the aliens or mutant creature, and about Zayn’s generosity with sharing.

Zayn smiles at him and then steps around him so he can make his way back to his friends.

“Ask me again,” Zayn says.

Harry startles and turns to look at Zayn. “What?”

“Ask me to go to dinner with you again.”

“Okay,” Harry mutters, frowning and trying not to feel too excited. “Do you want—“

“No,” Zayn laughs, shaking his head. “Not right now. Ask me again some other time when I’m not already busy, okay,” he says, before he turns back to his friends.

And oh, Harry thinks, standing there and staring at Zayn for a moment. Okay, he can do that.

+

Harry’s made a habit of keeping Zayn’s book in his pocket. He doesn’t know when he’s going to see him again and he wants to be prepared. Zayn might not be worried about it, but Harry is. Harry wants to make sure that Zayn’s book doesn't become one of those forgotten things on the shelf. One of the things you borrow from someone and find years later, years too late to return it. This book is dog-eared and written in the margins. Harry can see the wear and care that Zayn has put into it, so he wants to return that to him.

And maybe, on another level, he wants the chance to ask Zayn out again.

He’s not going to deny the fact that he likes Zayn. Even Zayn’s aware of it, according to Louis, who doesn’t know how to keep his nose in his own business. Though, he won’t tell Harry what Zayn thinks about him, so he’s mostly useless, in Harry’s opinion.

When Harry sees Zayn again, it’s at an art gallery in the middle of the day. Harry’s dropping off his sister her lunch, when he spots Zayn across the room, hands behind his back as he examines a painting. Harry decides to leave him be, let him enjoy the art, and is halfway out of the door when Zayn turns and spots him and waves him over.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, voice too loud in the quiet room.

Zayn nods and so Harry goes, moving across the room to join him.

“What are you doing here?” Zayn asks.

“My sister works here. I was bringing her her lunch.”

Zayn hums. “Hmm, thought maybe you were following me again.”

“I don’t follow you.”

Zayn smiles at him, big and wide. “I know, just teasing you,” he says, turning back to look at the painting. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s subpar. It’s not his best work, but, then again, I do have a bit of insight with my sister being the curator and all.”

“Oh? Art world drama?”

“Something like that,” Harry tells him. “More like, a young kid that’s shit at deadlines and produced half of this after my sister threatened him with finding someone else. Not like she really could, since they were already advertising, but I’m sure she would have.”

“Huh,” Zayn mutters, nodding thoughtfully at the painting. “I guess when you know what happens behind the scenes, it does distort your perspective a bit. Kind of like when famous couples break up, and everyone is shocked and feels bad and tries to get them back together.”

“You don’t seem like the type to care about celebrities relationships,” Harry points out.

“I don’t,” Zayn laughs, “but I have three sisters, and a basic understanding of how society works. It’s just natural. Like this painting, you think it’s subpar, but I think it’s fascinating. The brushwork, the emotion behind it all. Rushed or not, it’s out of this fucking world.”

“I guess you have a point,” Harry says, though he’s not looking at the painting at all.

Instead, he’s staring at Zayn’s face, taking in his features as Zayn takes in the painting. He’s a beautiful person, and Harry has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not just on the outside where Zayn’s beautiful. There are layers to his beauty starting on the inside that Harry wants to peel apart slowly and in whatever way Zayn lets him. He wants that, more so than anything, in the strangest way. He hardly knows this boy but he wants to.

“I finished your book,” he says, watching as Zayn tears his eyes away to look at him. “It was good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry confirms. “Not gonna lie, it was a bit confusing for about the first half, but I don’t know, I couldn’t put it down.”

“Yeah? It’s one of my favorites.”

“I can tell,” Harry says, tugging the copy out of his pocket. “I don’t know how you carry this thing around. It’s worse than a wallet.”

Zayn laughs and shoves the book back towards Harry. “You can keep that one. I’ve got a copy at home.”

“What? But you’ve been carrying it around.”

Zayn shrugs and steps towards the left, towards another painting. “I keep it with me in case the book I’m reading is boring, or if I’m bored and decide I want to read something. Might just have to invest in, like, one of those electronic readers, or just start downloading books on my phone, but it’s not the same.”

“Bit more accessible.”

“Yeah, but it’s not as satisfying to the senses. Besides, if a book is bad, I can donate it to the library and get rid of it forever. Maybe someone else will enjoy it that way. With e-books, you can’t really do that.”

Harry sighs and bites back the remark that’s on the tip of his tongue, about how Zayn is something else. Instead, he turns to the next painting and listens as Zayn talks about the struggle of the artist that’s hidden in the color choice, how the soft curves of the lines reflect that same mood. Harry doesn’t see it at all but it’s nice to listen to the sound of Zayn’s voice as he talks about something that he so adamantly believes.

“Your eyes are glazing over a bit. Have I lost you?”

“No, you haven’t,” Harry tells him. “I’m just fascinated that you’re able to see all of that in this.”

Zayn shrugs. “You can see anything in art that you want to see. It’s supposed to be open to the viewer. I mean, sure, the artist had his own ideas in mind, but that doesn’t mean we can’t see what we want to see.”

“If you’re wanting a summer job, you should call my sister. I think you’d be great here,” Harry says honestly, almost tempted to run around back and force Gemma to meet Zayn. “Seriously, I think you’d fit in.”

“I don’t know about that,” Zayn snorts. “But maybe. I do have a lot of free time, I suppose.”

“Enough free time to get dinner?” Harry asks, feeling like he’s found his shot and he has to take it.

Zayn grins at him before he tears his eyes back to the painting. “Yeah, I’ve got time for dinner.”

+

“Now that you’ve finally got me, where are you going to take me?” Zayn asks as he approaches Harry.

It’s nearing sundown and he’s only a couple minutes late. Harry asked him to meet him across the street from the library and the jewelry store that Louis’ mom runs. Zayn’s dressed casually, in loose blue shorts and a white tee. He’s wearing high top converse instead of his usual combat boots, with little doodles on them that look like Zayn did them himself when he was bored.

“It’s a surprise,” Harry tells him, reaching out and taking Zayn by the wrist. He walks him down an alley and feels briefly as Zayn pulls back in his hold. “Relax, we’re just walking through.”

“Think I’ve heard that on an episode of a true crime show before.”

“Honestly, you probably have,” Harry laughs. “All right, climb up.”

“Climb up what?” Zayn asks, staring at the rickety metal stairs in front of him. “You’re not serious.”

“I am serious,” Harry says. “Come on, trust me. They’re perfectly safe, I’ve been up and down them a million times.”

“Pretty sure I’ve heard that said in movies when they’re about to cross a rickety bridge.”

“You’re watching far too much television, then. Now, come on, up,” Harry instructs. “I’ll walk up behind you so I can protect you.”

“More like so you can break my fall,” Zayn grumbles, before he heaves in a deep breath and starts making his way up the stairs.

It’s four flights up to the top, and Zayn doesn’t stop once. Harry knows that he’s afraid of heights, but once they reach the top, Harry can see the way that Zayn relaxes when he’s finally on the roof and no longer on the stairs. They hold up, just like Harry promised that they would.

Zayn gasps as he looks around the roof, and Harry drops his gaze down to the floor in embarrassment.

“Did you do this?” Zayn asks, motioning around.

Harry glances up and takes in the roof. He spent the afternoon cooking and putting together a picnic basket that he found at his mom’s house. He didn’t even know what kind of food Zayn liked, so he made some of his best recipes, things that people have complimented him on, both dinner and dessert. He’s laid out a blanket on the ground, and filled a couple mason jars with candles to give them light when the sun goes down. And that’s another thing, he’s chosen the roof that he knows gives the best view of the sunset, overlooking the park and the river. All things considered, a little too romantic for a first date, but is known for overdoing things.

“God,” Zayn mutters, shaking his head.

“Is it okay?” Harry asks.

Zayn turns to look at him, considering him for a moment. They’re standing close together and Harry breathes out slowly when Zayn steps forward, gently bringing his hands to Harry’s cheeks. He kisses him softly and quickly, just a brush of lips before he pulls away and smiles.

“I think the date is supposed to end with a kiss, not start with it.”

Zayn shrugs. “I’d rather do things my own way,” he says.

“I didn’t think you’d—I mean, technically speaking, you’ve rejected me twice now. I didn’t think we’d ever get to the point where you’d want to kiss me, at least not this soon.”

“I never rejected you,” Zayn corrects. “I had plans to ride the roller coaster with someone else already, then I already had plans with friends. You just finally asked when I was free.”

Harry hums and nods, not quite sure that he believes that. “I think that, if we’re being honest here, you were rejecting me.”

Zayn sighs and slowly lowers himself down on the blanket. He hesitates with his hands over the basket until Harry nods, urging him on to go ahead and get the food out. “When we met, I knew that you were going to be,” Zayn sighs once more and shakes his head, like he doesn’t want to finish that thought. “I just knew you’d be trouble.”

“Love at first sight,” Harry laughs, causing Zayn to roll his eyes.

“Since we’re doing this date backward, do you want cupcakes or brownies first?”

Harry grins and takes a cupcake, watching as Zayn licks the icing off his own.

It’s something and nothing all at once. It’s a first date between two people, the beginning of a bridge being built to lead them from strangers to something more. Harry doesn’t know what’s going to come out of, but with the sun is shining across Zayn’s face, making his eyes shine like diamonds, Harry knows that whatever it is, he can’t wait for it.

**Author's Note:**

> When I volunteered to be a pinch hitter, I was adamant that the prompts had to be absolutely perfect since I only had a week to write, or else I wasn't going to do it. Your prompts were absolutely perfect, but even if they weren't, I was most excited to write for Leigh and I *had* to have these prompts. In a week, I outlined four fics, and with each of those fics, I realized that I was biting off WAY more than I could chew with a week's deadline. So, this is essentially your final prompt, where you listed some of your favorite tropes and stuff you like. I think. Maybe. Maybe not. You deserve a 900k fic of perfection, to be honest, and I panicked and just...wrote, so here's to hoping you enjoyed this and that this is something you might have been hoping for. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Oh, and this is definitely inspired by that beginning bit of The Notebook because I've always imagined Harry as that pain in the ass Noah.


End file.
